


Prom, The Evening After

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: Drunkenness, Frottage, Grinding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP, set after senior prom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prom, The Evening After

**Author's Note:**

> For [Project NAGERTUTWP](http://notagoodenoughreason.tumblr.com/). ;) Post originally [over here on Tumblr](http://missbeizy.tumblr.com/post/43344760647/prom-the-evening-after-kurt-blaine).

Half an hour before they'd left prom, Blaine had said, "I think the punch is spiked, Kurt. Oh, wow. Definitely."

"No it's not," Kurt had shouted, and tossed back a cupful. And then a second. And then a third.

"Oh dear," Blaine replied, trying very hard not to laugh at how Kurt could go from denial to drunk in about two minutes. "Okay, tiger. I think you've had enough." He steers Kurt away from the punch bowl and the picture station. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Nooo," Kurt moans, tossing two sloppy arms around Blaine's neck. "So much pretty, so much fun. Blaine. Blaine, dance with me, okay? Dance with me again." His top hat is askew and his already intentionally, artfully rumpled outfit is even more rumpled.

"I think that if you could actually dance right now, I'd applaud," Blaine replies, leading him toward the exit.

"Bossy," Kurt groans, stumbling along. Blaine is pretty sure he could light Kurt's breath on fire if he wanted to.

Outside, the air seems to wake Kurt up a little. He slurs and stumbles, but by the time they reach his car he's walking more or less on his own. He's quiet, which means that he's trying to shake off the buzz, and as Blaine is reaching for the driver's side door Kurt's arms slide around him from behind. "Blaine, your--I keep meaning to say, your hair, it's...it's you. I mean it's so you. I love it. I just love it."

He blushes, and walks Kurt around the car to the passenger seat. "Keys?" He claims them, and then smiles. "Thank you. I appreciate the reassurance, but I know how bad it is."

"I am proud of you, stop deflect--def--stop being a jerk." They drive maybe three blocks and then Kurt continues. "Look, hey. I don't want my dad to see me like this, okay? I have the--the key to that hotel room Rachel got us. Let's go there."

"Hotel room on prom night?" Blaine asks, grinning. "Classy."

"Oh my god, no, I just--I meant sleep, and maybe vomiting, I am so not even remotely sexy right now don't even."

He turns the car around without any further interruption; Kurt has a point about that. Blaine is ridiculously sensitive to Burt's approval of them, and he doesn't want Kurt to be embarrassed in front of his dad, either. They had intended to be at the hotel all night, anyway, per Rachel's "until the wee hours" anti-prom decree and since that had fallen through, they would've just ended up at someone else's house instead, anyway. Might as well use the room and enjoy some privacy, even if all they do is shower and sleep.

Blaine wheedles an extra ice bucket out of the front desk manager and fills them both while Kurt showers and hopefully doesn't have to vomit while he's alone. 

There's a ton of alcohol left in the room, but Blaine just brings out the case of water bottles and lines them up alongside the ice buckets.

Kurt comes wobbling out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, wearing a robe and looking slightly more human.

"Water," Blaine says, and brings him a huge glass of water and ice.

Kurt moans, chugging it. "Angel. Savior. My puffy-haired angel savior." He falls onto the bed after setting the water glass aside, and tugs Blaine down with him. "Thank you. God, I am a stupid drunk."

"You drank that too fast, babe."

Kurt's face turns green just moments later. "Oh, god." He runs into the bathroom and closes the door.

It's a long night. Blaine brings him small doses of water after each upchuck, rubs his back, strokes his hair, brings him a toothbrush and toothpaste, and even helps him into the shower again when he declares that he can't stand himself and needs to scrub clean all over again.

It's two in the morning by the time he's recovered completely, and he falls asleep in Blaine's arms like a toddler, clutching and snuffling loudly through his nose. Blaine finally finds himself able to relax, and slides into sleep, too.

He wakes up an undetermined number of hours later. It's still dark out, so it can't have been more than two hours or so, but he feels much better; he'd had some water and a protein bar before they'd went to bed, and that plus sleep has made him feel human again. Kurt is curled up behind him. He smiles, letting his back relax against Kurt's chest. It's such a wonderful feeling, lying curled up against Kurt. He doesn't think that they've ever been able to sleep through a night together with complete privacy.

Kurt wakes up minutes later, shrugging off the robe he'd been wearing. "Hot in here," he sleep-mumbles, falling back to the sheets. He's wearing just a pair of briefs under the robe. "Why so many clothes?" Blaine is wearing a full set of pajamas.

"Um," Blaine says. "It's what I brought? I thought we'd be here with everyone else tonight." It's also a weird thing for Kurt to say, because normally they are both so uptight about pajamas (matching ones, especially, as sleep is no excuse to abandon fashion).

Kurt snuggles close, sleep-warmed and lazy. His mouth dives into Blaine's hair. "Oh, hello. God, have I mentioned that I love your hair? It's so soft. You weren't joking about it being baby-fine." He slides one hand into it, tugging the curls.

Blaine shivers. "I see that you're feeling better?"

"Mm," Kurt hums, sliding one arm around Blaine's waist and pulling their bodies together. He shifts Blaine's hair aside and kisses the back of his neck.

Warmth and awareness floods Blaine's sleep-addled brain. He relaxes (it is mind-boggling how long it took him to just let this happen the first few times; he'd needed to literally teach himself how to give over to the physical feeling, to Kurt's hands and mouth and love), eyelids fluttering and spine going loose.

"Kurt," he whispers, overwhelmed almost as soon as Kurt's tongue starts tracing the shell of his ear.

"Come here?" Kurt asks. He rolls over and into Kurt's arms, and Kurt's mouth finds his and oh--he doesn't think he'll ever get used to the way it feels, wet and fast and hot all over, settling in his face and chest and between his legs. He groans, opening his mouth to let Kurt in, and Kurt's left hand finds his thigh and pulls. "Closer, okay?"

It feels so stupidly good, sliding his clothed leg over Kurt's hip; his throbbing dick can straighten as it gets hard, and the overheated squash of his balls against his thigh can cool off a little. Kurt's hand slides down his side and then up his chest, popping buttons the whole way. Panting, Blaine roughly shrugs the top off. Kurt's hands find his hot skin and he moans, shoulder blades working beneath the scratch of Kurt's fingernails down his back.

"God, Kurt," he growls, hips twitching forward, and--Kurt's hard, too, tenting his underwear, and Blaine whines.

Kurt's left hand slides down the back of his pajama bottoms and grabs, pulling their erections snugly together. "Come here." He gasps. "God. Too close. Too close already, god, you are so hot, make me so hard, Blaine.”

Blaine has no idea why this feels so urgent, so quickly; he thinks that he could just squeeze himself and shoot at this point, and Kurt seems to be there, too. He pants, trying to force his body to back off. "Wait. Just wait a second, fuck. Kurt. Kurt." He can feel it rise at the base of his cock, a throb that meets nothing but air and the softness of his pajamas, and he needs to press against something before he dies from the lack. He's shaking, and his breath won't stop coming out in jerky flickers, and Kurt is hard and hot and all over him.

Kurt's lips touch his jaw, his lips. Kurt's fingers twist in his hair. "You're shaking," he whimpers. Kurt's fingers sneak between them, and his fingertips graze whisper-soft down the front of Blaine's pajama bottoms. 

The hard ridge of Blaine's cock pulses, arching almost involuntarily into Kurt's fingertips. He is going to come and he can't stop it; he clamps down, sobbing. "Don't. Don't. Fuck. Kurt."

Kurt uses his hand to guide his own underwear covered erection against Blaine's. "So fucking close," Kurt growls, and it's only the lightest of pressures when he rubs the heads of their clothed cocks together, but it makes Blaine want to beg. He gasps for air instead, trying so hard to not, but he can feel the slit at the head of his cock gape, can feel pre-come leak out in an almost painful series of droplets.

"Please," Blaine sobs. He doesn't know why he feels like he needs permission, but Kurt seems to be holding him back somehow, even though he's doing almost nothing.

"Please?" Kurt asks, breath hot and heavy over Blaine's neck.

"Please, can I come? I can't, Kurt, I can't stop it--"

Kurt presses in, pelvis coming flush against Blaine's. He rolls--the bed squeaks--and then disappears, and then rolls again, making their bodies rock back and forth. His left hand claws down Blaine's hip. "Come, baby," Kurt says, and begins thrusting against him, rolling their erections together.

Blaine curses and grabs Kurt's waist and thrusts and god, it hurts when he comes, delayed jerks and almost a burn, and it's so much, gushes of wet semen sprawling a wet patch across his underwear and pajamas.

Kurt is thrusting so hard that he drives Blaine onto his back, slamming him against the mattress with one hand in his hair and the other clutching his ass. Kurt's cock had edged out of his underwear toward the end, so when he comes it's wet spurts all over Blaine's stomach, and then he stops and gasps and grabs himself and jerks and keeps coming, weak dribbles pooling in Blaine's navel.

"God," Blaine gasps.

"Epic sex hair, telling you," Kurt gasps, laughing.


End file.
